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Galantia slipped off Malyr’s lap, brushed her skirts down, and crossed the library slowly, as if she’d seen this coming all along, with not a wrinkle on her dulled features. If anything, she looked resolved.
When she disappeared behind the door, I looked over at Malyr; the shadows lifting from his face revealing his blank stare. Not what he’d hoped for, huh? No screams. No sobs. No tears.
Fucking hot-headed bastard.
I could get behind him having her wet and moaning against the edge of a blade, the slap of a hand, or in the binds of shadows. But violently finger-fucking through Galantia’s maidenhead in front of her father’s envoy? That shit wasn’t right.
I shifted and flew out the library, only to crash straight into a wall. Feathers tangled, claws scratched over stone. By the time we finally reached the crooked-looking stairs, I wanted to fucking throw up.
“Galantia,” I said as I emerged from my shadows at the bottom landing, one hand clinging to the stone banister to control my sway.
She kept trudging up the steps, her posture slightly hunched, one trembling hand pressed against her lower belly. “I just… I just want to go to my chamber.”
Fuck, she looked so helpless, the way she all but heaved herself up along the stone-carved rail. It had been difficult to watch, the way Malyr had jabbed his fingers into her, and in the end, I’d looked away.
My chest tightened painfully.
Why had I looked away?
Without much thinking, I hurried up the steps. I scooped her up in my arms and carried her the rest of the way over the shifting ground. Why did she have to tell him about Harlen? It had taken Malyryearsto get over his brother’s death. The shame. The guilt.
“I got you,” I said, suddenly aware of the sour stench that drifted between us, and it sure as fuck wasn’t coming from her. “You’ll be fine.”
“No, I won’t.” She stared into the space between us, her eyes void of tears—and everything else. No anger, shame, or sadness. Just… nothing. “Now he has two more reasons to torment me, and not a single one to let me go. What will become of me now in this place?”
Good question, but not one I could answer with how my brain throbbed. That captain of hers had made a damn strong case for this betrothal. Strong enough for Malyr to put his hate aside? I wasn’t sure…
“I don’t know.”
Didn’t understand how this could have gone so bad so quickly, my skull such a loud place of crowded memories. Chances were there had been signs that this exchange had been doomed from the start. All of which I’d mostly ignored, too damn focused on rubbing my cock all over her.
“Maybe I deserve him as a husband for how foolish I was. How blind.” When we reached the end of the corridor that held our chambers, her voice came out, rusty and meek. “I deserve all of his hate. Maybe I even deserve all of your hate, too.”
“I don’t hate you, Galantia.” Didn’t hate her at all… “You just need to lie down in your bed and rest. I’m not going to say that things will look better tomorrow, but perhaps not quite so grim.”
“Could I… maybe lie down in your bed instead?” Her little fingers curled into the side of my neck. “Only for a while?”
Against the frailty in her voice—or perhaps because of it—my cock twitched in my breeches. In her state, all vulnerable and broken, a little kindness and care might get me places—especially since all concerns about her purity were currently drying on Malyr’s knuckles.
Unfortunately, I was equipped with a set of morals only moderately low, which left me half-hard and fully torn. She was hurt—undoubtedly cramping and sore—which turned her question all sorts of complicated. Women came to my bed to lick my balls, not their damn wounds.
So why was it that I carried her into my chamber, kicked the door shut, and lowered her into my bed? “This good, sweetheart? This where you want to be? My bed?”
Nodding, she lay down on her side, pulling her knees against her chest as she grimaced in pain. “I think… I think I’ll just feel safer here. With you.”
She feels safer with me…
That tightness in my chest, an ache in a place too familiar, clenched even tighter, turning into a raw, searing knot. Had she thought herself safe beside me in the library? Had hoped I would protect her from Malyr?
I turned toward the hearth, trying to dislodge that unwanted sensation, and put a pan filled with chestnuts into the ashes. When the scent of roasted nuts filled my chamber, I pulled the pan from the heat by its handle. I poured the steaming chestnuts into a leather satchel, and once tied, I lay it against Galantia’s belly.
“This will help with the cramps,” I said. “My mother used to do this for pains during her time of bleeding.”
She clasped it tightly and continued to stare at a dark corner in my room. “Thank you.”
“There was nothing I could’ve done, Galantia.” There hadn’t been; she had to understand that. “I don’t always agree with how Malyr handles certain things but… he’s my prince.”
Silence.
